


Floating

by sarcasticsra



Category: Alpha House
Genre: I feel like 'Louis Laffer Opinions' should be a tag unto itself, M/M, though it's pretty mild here all things considered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7907590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticsra/pseuds/sarcasticsra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has another (interesting) chat with Colonel Drake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floating

**Author's Note:**

> ...so, this happened. There I was, innocently trawling Amazon for something to watch, saw Alpha House and John Goodman and thought, "Well, why not," and fast forward to a few days later and I've watched the entire series. Boo. But that last ep! Louis' crush on Colonel Drake was just so cute, and apparently reciprocated. And my brain decided it did not want to let it go, so...here's the third whole fic for this fandom, lol.

While there is no wedding, there is a bar, and that’s what most people take advantage of. Louis is trying to keep out of sight of anyone who might be a little, well, irked at him, after Julie and Katherine just up and ran away like they did. Honestly, who knew lesbians could get cold feet before a wedding? Wasn’t that just for men?

He spots Lamar walking into the dining room and ducks outside quickly--too quickly, as he almost runs into Colonel Drake. “P-pardon me, Colonel,” he says. “I was, just, er--”

“Avoiding someone?” he asks.

“Well, no, I--actually, yes,” Louis says, sagging a little against the brick. “Julie is my chief of staff, you know. The party had kind of hoped that this wedding would be an...um, opportunity? To show that we were...evolving. I guess it got a little out of hand.”

“It did turn into a pretty big deal,” Colonel Drake agrees. “It’s good to hear that the party is...evolving, sir.”

“Yes, well, I just hope this lack of wedding doesn’t...stunt...the evolution, as it were,” he says. He peers around, noticing that Colonel Drake’s plus one doesn’t appear to be anywhere in sight. “Is your...boyfriend,” he makes himself say the word, and not trip over it too badly, “around? I hope there weren’t any...misunderstandings, or…”

“Uh, no, actually. He left. He was pretty upset with me, though that’s mutual now.” Colonel Drake looks slightly uncomfortable, and quickly runs a hand through his hair.

“Oh dear,” says Louis. “Well, I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

“Yeah,” Colonel Drake says absently. Then, “Would you like a drink, sir?”

Louis considers this. Technically, he doesn’t drink (sort of), but technically, he also opposes gay marriage (sort of), and he did just try to mastermind one, even if it didn’t actually take. It’s also been one of those days. “You know, Colonel, I think we both could use one. But don’t worry about the bar, follow me.”

Checking that the coast is clear, he leads Colonel Drake to a small study on the west side of the house. It’s exactly the kind of room that anyone would easily overlook, and therefore exactly the kind of room Tammy would stash a bottle of whiskey for Gil John to find later.

Sure enough, it’s in the third drawer he checks, along with a few glasses. He pours them each a drink and offers it to Colonel Drake.

“Should I ask how you knew this would be here?” he asks, looking amused. There are really nice crinkles around his eyes as he smiles at him, Louis can’t help but notice.

“I know Gil John, and I know the sort of things he gets up to. He’s not the sort of man who’s going to leave a bottle of good whiskey to chance.” 

Louis takes a seat on the couch in the study, and Colonel Drake sits on the other end of it. It’s not a large couch, so there’s only about half a person’s worth of space between them. He takes a sip (it burns; he’s never understood why people _like_ drinking, when it tastes like this) and tries not to think about it. “So, uh.” He falters. “How have you been, Colonel?”

“Sir?”

“I’m sorry, I’m probably not particularly good company right now,” he admits. “I’m feeling rather at a loss, currently, and kind of stuck in my own head.”

“I know that feeling, sir. I’m in a similar boat myself right now.”

“Right, right. David, was it? He seemed...nice, you know. And that story you mentioned, the way you were both wounded, that is...well, that’s one hell of a history to share with someone. It’s...profound. Not the kind of thing to be severed easily, certainly not.”

“I wonder about that.” He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know how, in an action movie, the main male character and the main female character will usually end up together in the end?”

“Sure,” Louis says, not at all sure where he’s going with this.

“Do you ever wonder how they could possibly sustain a relationship? I mean, they met under fire, literally in a lot of cases, and everything about their relationships until the end is at the same pace. What happens when they go back to just...life? Making the bed and laundry and taking the dog for a walk. Without the constant adrenaline, is it all going to fall apart?”

“Uh,” he says. “I guess I never thought about it. Is, uh, is that what you feel like is happening to you? And...David?”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“Well,” he says, for lack of anything better. He takes another drink, a longer one this time, and can’t stop himself from making a face.

Colonel Drake smiles at him again, and the little crinkles are back. “Whiskey isn’t really your drink, is it, Senator?”

“Of course it is, I--” He stops. What is the point of lying to this man, exactly? “No. It’s not. To tell you the truth, I think most alcohol tastes terrible, but if you try to mix it with anything people accuse you of being a sissy, and I...well, I get accused of that enough as it is.”

“Try being a gay man in the U.S. Military,” Drake says wryly.

“What? But _you_ \--I can’t imagine anyone calling _you_ \--” He knows he looks astonished, but he can’t help it. “You’re so _masculine_.”

“Thanks.” Colonel Drake looks away for a second, and briefly Louis thinks he must have stuffed his foot in his mouth again and insulted him somehow, until he realizes...he’s blushing. 

He made Colonel Drake blush. The thought warms him more than the alcohol.

They drink for a few moments in semi-awkward silence, and Louis can feel the whiskey taking effect. He’s really not much of a drinker, and doesn’t have a very high tolerance. He relaxes on the couch, which somehow ends up putting him closer to Colonel Drake. There’s maybe a few inches of space between them now.

“So what about you, Senator? Why are you in your head, as you put it? Is it just the fact that the wedding got called off?” Colonel Drake eventually asks.

“That’s part of it,” he says. “My wife wants to move back to D.C., which puts my friends in a bit of a jam. They rent rooms from me, you know.”

“Sure,” he says. “Do you want her to move back?”

“Well,” Louis hedges. “It’s hard to say. I love her, of course, but I’ve kind of gotten into my own routine here in D.C., and I...okay, that sounds selfish. Maybe I’m just overthinking it. There’s no reason I shouldn’t want her to move back to D.C., right?”

“No reason, sir?”

Louis might be imagining the way Colonel Drake says that, as more of a question than a statement. “You, uh, you know you don’t have to call me sir. We’re not even in Congress. You could...you could call me Louis.”

“Certainly, s--Louis,” he says, smiling again. “You could call me Eugene.”

Louis takes a deep breath. “Yes. Eugene. Good to know you.” He chuckles awkwardly, taking another drink. They’re sitting even closer now, he notices. Their legs brush, and Louis tries to blame the warmth spreading through him on the whiskey. 

“Good to know you, too,” he says. He taps his glass against Louis’ in a toast gesture, and they finish their drinks.

“Shall I pour us another?” Louis asks.

“Why don’t you let me get that?” He stands and grabs the whiskey off the desk, bringing it back to the couch. He puts his hand on Louis’ arm to steady it while he pours the drink, and Louis shivers.

“Are you cold again, s--Louis?” Colonel--Eugene asks, pouring his own drink and setting the bottle on the table next to the couch. 

“No, no, I’m fine. Maybe a little warm, actually.” He struggles with his bow tie, trying to undo it, but it’s difficult with one hand. 

“Here, let me,” Eugene says, setting his drink aside and pulling the bow tie undone, his fingertips just brushing Louis’ neck. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” He unbuttons the top button of his shirt. It doesn’t help. He still feels warm, almost uncomfortably warm. They’re sitting very close now, Eugene having leaned in to undo the bow tie, and he can feel the side of his thigh pressed against the side of Eugene’s. 

Neither of them move.

Louis has the distant thought that he’s in far over his head, but he can’t look away from Eugene’s face. Their eyes lock. “We should, um, we should--”

Eugene places a hand over his, cradling his glass, which is good, because he follows that up by kissing him, and Louis would most certainly have dropped it; this is not anything like how he’s _ever_ been kissed.

It’s warm and soft and his chest feels tight, the thoughts in his head floating and buzzing around, and there’s a heat pooling in the pit of his stomach that he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

They break apart and Louis takes a second to remember how to breathe. “How did you _do_ that,” is the first thing he blurts, and Eugene gives him a curious look. “I mean. I’ve never. That kiss was--a kiss is usually just, you know, a nice thing that you do and then wait for it to be over, but that was, um, that was…”

His look turns from curious to...something else that Louis’ brain is too addled to decipher, but it’s possible he looks slightly sad? He’s not sure. “I probably shouldn’t have done that,” he says finally. “But you’re cute, and every time you look at me that way, I just want to…” He trails off, shaking his head.

“You...think I’m cute?” He can feel himself blushing. “I never thought--but then I met you and--you make my brain float,” he says, too tipsy to care that it probably doesn’t make that much sense.

Eugene smiles. “Yeah, you make my brain float, too.”

Louis sighs. “I’m married. I’m _Mormon_. I’m a Senator, who until like last week was against gay marriage. And more than anything, I want you to kiss me again.”

“I _could_ ,” Eugene says, and he does look like he wants to.

“You probably shouldn’t,” Louis says, sighing again.

“No. Probably not,” he agrees, sighing as well, and stands up. “I think I’m going to take off. Sir. Enjoy your drink.” Colonel Drake gives him one last meaningful look before leaving the study.

Louis sinks back against the couch.

That’s where Gil John, Andy, and Robert find him, about half an hour later. He’s finished his second and third drinks, and is in the middle of a fourth. “Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, Louis, you’ve had this much by yourself?” Gil John says, picking up the bottle. “I’m surprised you’re not passed out on the floor.”

“Not all by myself,” he mumbles. He opens his eyes wide. “Colonel Drake was here. He had a drink.”

“Colonel Drake? Isn’t that one of the witnesses from the--what was it, the transgender troops hearing?” Robert asks.

“Yup, that’s him.” He sits up straighter. “I mean, he’s not. He’s a man. Very...very...man.”

Gil John raises his eyebrows at him. “Uh huh.”

“He kissed me.” Louis takes another drink with a flourish, watching their faces go slack with surprise. “I liked it.”

The three of them exchange a look.

“Well, _shit_ ,” says Gil John with feeling, and he pulls the stopper from the whiskey bottle.


End file.
